


Before You Start Falling

by slendytheperfectman



Series: Liam/Noel [1]
Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: 80s/90s, Confusion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infidelity, Inspiral Carpets, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Miracles, Mpreg, Oasis, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sibling Incest, warnings in notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29836698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slendytheperfectman/pseuds/slendytheperfectman
Summary: Noel had always known — deep down, in the darkest parts of his mind — he had known. He refused to let himself admit it, what chance would he have?But now, with a fetus growing inside of him, he had to confront his true feelings.Because not only was he a 23-year-old man having a child, he was a 23-year-old man having his little brothers child.Whatever was he to do?
Relationships: Clint Boon/Noel Gallagher, Liam Gallagher & Noel Gallagher, Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher
Series: Liam/Noel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193501
Comments: 17
Kudos: 25





	1. Pretty Boy, Not So Pretty Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒  
> ⁞ ❏. alcohol/drug use  
> ⁞ ❏. homophobic language  
> ⁞ ❏. abuse  
> ⁞ ❏. underage sex (he’s 17, so not really but it is implied)
> 
> ***NOT PROOFREAD***
> 
> Title - ‘Up In The Sky’ Oasis

**1977**

_Poofters have no rightful place in this city, no rightful place in this world!_

Those were the first words 10-year-old Noel had ever heard regarding homosexuality. Spoken by none other than the drunken mouth of his Da.

Noel and Paul were sat on the floor, at the mans feet, ready to answer to whatever request the man would come up with next. They were, for once, unharmed, but that didn’t stop the nagging feeling of ‘something-bad-is-about-to-happen’ from rattling around in their brains.

Their Mam was sat on the sofa, making herself as small as possible on the side furthest away from their Da’s dingy, old armchair. She side-eyed the man, but didn’t dare to speak.

**Gay News ‘blasphemy’ trial: battle begins**

A photo lay above the words, around 8 adults (maybe teens? Whatever they were, they were older than him) leaning against the barrier of a bridge, a flag reading ‘GAY PRIDE’ was risen behind them.

Noel, in his opinion, didn’t see the problem. So what if James Kirkup had written a poem instigating that Jesus was gay, it’s not like anyone knew Jesus personally. It was just a poem, words on a piece of paper, what was all the fuss about?

”Why does the Old Lady care so much?” He had asked, immediately regretting his choice of words as the room seemed to grow colder. His eyes averted contact from his Da, but it was to late, the damage was already done. 

“What did you say, boy?” He gulped, his Mam sat up straighter, ready to protest, Paul seemed to curl into himself and Liam was sound asleep against their Da, chubby face laying on a beer belly.

”N-nothing, I was just being stupid.” He carried on with his maths homework, pressing the pencil so hard into the paper that it made a hole in the sheet.

”I believe you said ‘Why does the Old Lady care so much?’” He glared at Noel, eyes gleaming with a sadistic hunger.

“It was s-stupid, f-forget it, Da.” He was basically begging for his Da to let it go, to unrelease his paws from where they were clawing at the arm chair, to go back to the newspaper.

”Are you a f-faggot, Noel?” He asked, mocking the 10-year-olds stutter. 

Noel, admittedly, didn’t know what that word meant, be he knew it was something that he didn’t want to be.

”N-no, ‘course not.” He finally met his Da’s eye, cowering away from the deep-rooted anger in them.

It took just seconds for the man to push Liam of his lap, to pin Noel down onto the carpet. His meaty hands held Noel’s dainty wrists, he shook the boy.

“Are you a faggot?” His Da yelled, he yelled back, damn the rules, he wanted this man off of him.

His Mam was yelling too, Liam crying in her lap as Paul silently crawled to sit at his Mam’s feet, skinny arms wrapping around her leg.

Noel kicked his legs, tears building in his eyes, he was being crushed. His shirt had ridden up and he could feel the start of a carpet burn, but his Da didn’t seem to care. He never seemed to care.

He could smell the beer on his Da’s breath, a foul stench to add onto his manky figure. It was then that the mans eyes widened in what could only be a psychotic realisation, and that a meaty paw wrapped around Noel’s neck, it got dark alarmingly fast after that.

**1984**

Noel leant back against the the stalls wall, nose stinging with the line he just took. He was sore all over, but the pain was worth it if it meant he got such good drugs.

He wrapped his own hand around his throat, much smaller to all the hands that had ever wrapped themselves around his neck. He hated to admit it, but the lack of air made his high better.

That the degrading words of _“faggot”_ and _“useless poofter”_ made him moan louder, that the hands enclosing dangerously tight around his neck made him come quicker.

He hates to admit it, but his Da was right.


	2. Yeah, My Boyfriends Pretty Cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Boon was older and taller than Noel. Clint Boon was in a band, Clint Boon knew where and how to get good drugs for cheap.
> 
> Yeah, Clint Boon was pretty cool.
> 
> 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒  
> ⁞ ❏. alcohol/drug use  
> ⁞ ❏. homophobic language  
> ⁞ ❏. abusive/toxic relationships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed Noel roadie date.  
> He WAS a roadie from 1988-1991 but now he’s a roadie from 1987 (20 years old) - 1990 (23 years old).
> 
> Clint Boon is actually a very nice man, this is purely fictional.
> 
> 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒  
> ⁞ ❏. alcohol/drug use  
> ⁞ ❏. homophobic language  
> ⁞ ❏. abusive/toxic relationships

**1987**

Noel meets Clint Boon the same way he’s met any other above-average-looking-older-man that’s willing to share cheap drugs — in a dingy, dark toilet.

It’s late — or maybe really, really early — but either way, it’s late. The sun has yet to risen, the moon still riding high, unlike Noel, who has been trying to score some cheap drugs since the start of the Stone Roses gig, that was hours ago.

So here he was, sobering up, bored and not high, how unfair. Everyone around him, the couple with their tongues down each other’s throats, the band, even the security guard that patted Noel down ( _“just in case”_ ) seemed to be tripping, and yet here Noel was.

Perfectly conscious. He should’ve stayed at home. An image of Liam, just turned 16, blue eyes wide with innocent but plump lips pulled in a smirk so mischievous Noel was almost nervous to figure out what he was up to, flashed through his head.

He definitely shouldn’t have stayed home.

His hands grew clammy, the lemonade in his hand didn’t seem as refreshing anymore. That was another thing to be pissed off about, the barman stopped serving him alcohol after his fourth drink, something about ‘looking to young.’ Looking to young his arse, Noel knew he should’ve brought his ID, but he didn't think of that, obviously.

”You’re gonna break that cup if you don’t loosen your hold in it, mate.” Noel gritted his teeth, he turned to look at whoever thought it’d be smart to bother him.

”Mind your fuckin’ business, ma-“ He stopped his rant, eyes widening as he was met with the sight of someone’s chest. Someone’s very broad chest. He casted his eyes up, tongue stiff in his throat as he met eyes with the owner of the very handsome chest. Noel cleared his throat, quickly looked away and loosened his hold on the plastic cup.

”Sorry.”

He muttered, not really knowing why he was apologising. The man, older, taller, broader, let out a laugh. It was a deep, loud, manly the complete opposite to Noel’s girlish giggle of a laugh.

”What you apologising for?” He asked, still chuckling through his words.

”I don’t know, snapping at you? Being the only sober person here?” He glanced at the barman, the looked back to the ridiculously tall stranger.

“Because I am old enough.” The barman gave him a wave, Noel returned the gesture, but with noticeably less fingers. The man chuckled again.

”Are you sure about that?” Noel flared up at him, thick eyebrows scrunched together. “You’re just so...small.”

He, to Noel’s disgust, patted the thick hair that rested on the scalp of the shorter man.

”I’m 20.”

”I’m 28, Clint Boon.”

He held out a large hand. Noel looked down at the hand, slender fingers, wide palm, yet again the complete opposite to Noel. Noel, finally, placed his hand in Clint’s.

”Noel Gallagher.”

Clint had a small bag of coke, something to snort, something to smoke, and it wasn’t even 10 minutes later when Noel found himself floating.

Found himself leaning into Clint, found Clint leaning in, too. Clint was in a band. Clint was a keyboardist in a band. Being a keyboardist in a band was the most uncool thing someone could do.

However, Clint, with his long hair, with his broad shoulders, with his cheap drugs and his bright smiles, made being a keyboardist in a shitty Manchester band seem like the best thing possible.

Noel had tried to join the band, wanted to be their new vocalist, but he was shit. But Clint liked him, so the others liked him and he was allowed to be their roadie.

( _“Remember, Noel, I made this happen, I allowed you to be here.”_ )

Noel liked Clint and Clint liked Noel, so it was only the right thing to start (secretly) dating. The band knew, and that was it, who else did Noel have to tell about his boyfriend?

His Mam? She’d freak, be accepting but freak. Paul? Not a chance. His Da? He’d already know how that would turn out, a bunch of “I told you so, I knew it” and heavy fists, absolutely not.

And Liam? Liam with his curious eyes and annoying questions, Liam with his pink lips, Liam who was now taller than Noel, Liam, who was only 17, yet so much more experienced than Noel. Liam? No, Liam would never know.

And so it remained Noel and Clint’s and the rest of the bands and all the married men Noel had sucked off in a dingy old bathroom for a line of dodgy drugs, it remained their secret.

Clint was all bright smiles and warm hugs, but his smiles were blinding and it wasn’t long until his hugs started to burn. Clint was a perfectionist, Clint liked to critique and Noel had a lot of flaws.

Noel was too short to be “a man” but to tall to be a girl, he wasn’t girly but he wasn’t manly. Noel was nothing.

Clint had long hair, Noel wasn’t allowed long hair ( _“why do you want long hair? Are you a girl? Want the boys to hit on you, you gurt pooft?”_ ) but Noel grew it out, Clint’s request, but cut it only a couple of weeks after, he didn’t like the hungry looks people started to give him, didn’t like the curious hands.

Clint didn’t like them either, but he liked the long hair, and so it was Noel’s fault.

”You shouldn’t give them attention, you’re such a fucking tease, Noel.”

Noel wasn’t a tease, he didn’t like attention, only wanted Clint — and maybe someone else, someone younger — attention. Noel wasn’t a tease.

”You’re such a fucking tease, babe.” Clint would whisper in his ear, when they were pressed together, Noel’s back pressed uncomfortably against the toilet stool.

“You’re such a fucking tease.” He’d growl when Noel would slap his hand away from his rear.

”I promise you can, j-just not yet, I p-promise.” Noel hadn’t stuttered since he had speech therapy when he was 10.

Paul had met Clint, it was a total accident. The Carpets had just come back from their 1988 tour, one year on the road, one year since Noel had seen his older brother.

Paul didn’t seem impressed, didn’t seem impressed by the dark marks on Noel’s neck, didn’t seem impress at Clint’s arm wrapped tightly around Noel’s waist. Clint reminded Paul of their Da.

Noel didn’t know why. Clint’s smiles were blinding, Da didn’t smile. Clint’s hugs were so warm they burnt, Da never hugged them.

Clint wasn’t like Da. Clint cared, sure nobody ever cared for Noel like Clint did maybe slightly — only slightly — like Da. But the point still stood, Clint Boon was nothing like Tommy Gallagher.

But as much as Noel hated to admit it, Clint’s hands felt awfully similar to their Da’s when they were wrapped around Noel’s throat.


	3. Maybe Daddy Was Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noel has been avoiding his family for days, maybe even weeks, but it’s not his fault.
> 
> He just can’t stop feeling guilty every time he catches on of their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been 99% monologue (I can’t do dialogue, sorry) but I have decided to attempt at writing so half decent dialogue!!
> 
> GCSE’s started in 1988, Liam would’ve been one of the first ever to have taken them. If Noel were to finish secondary school, he would’ve taken O-Levels.
> 
> 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒  
> ⁞ ❏. alcohol/drug use  
> ⁞ ❏. homophobic language  
> ⁞ ❏. abusive/toxic relationships/abuse 
> 
> This is bad an I apologise in advance.
> 
> ***NOT PROOFREAD***
> 
> Sorry for an grammar mistakes, it’s 1am here and I’m stressing about going back to school :(

**1988**

Noel hadn’t been home in months. After breaking up with his fiancée — Louise, was anyone really surprised? They had got engaged after 2 months of dating, it was destined to end — he had left Manchester in order to go on the road with the Inspiral Carpets. Well, he had left upon Clint’s request — command — but now, after 5 months of being away, he was back. 

Back and standing in front of the house that he had occupied since he was 15, since Liam was 10. Oh God, his mouth went dry, hands became clammy, was someone banging a drum? No, no, that was just his heart.

Oh God, Liam. Liam had just turned 16. Liam had just left school — 4 GCSE’s, silly cunt, Noel could’ve done better, if he had taken his O-Levels. Liam had just left school, meaning Liam just had prom, meaning Liam probably had a pretty bird hanging around his waist.

(Maybe, just maybe, if Noel was there, if Noel had shown up to Liam’s prom — to congratulate him, what else? — then Liam would be single. Noel should’ve picked up the phone, should’ve wrestled it out of Clint’s large hands.)

Noel took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow. He pulled his suitcase to their back door, his Mam never answered the front door, strange (but lovely) woman. Noel stared at the black plank of wood, chipping, paint faded with age, it looked sad. Was Mam sad? Did she miss him? What about Liam? No, screw Liam, Liam was his annoying little brother.

Noel raised his fist, ready to knock. Should he knock? It was _his_ house, but he had been give for just over 5 months, and it was 10pm, it’d be rude to-

The decision was made when the door flew open, it must’ve been a harsh pull of the handle, if the way it swung back into the house to hit the wall on the inside, was anything to go by. A dim, yellow light trickled out, painting Noel in a nice, golden hue.

Stood in front of him was no other than his baby brother. He was taller than Noel now, and not only because you had to step _up_ to enter the house. No, Liam had hit a growth spurt while Noel was away. Liam was no longer the cute, chubby, blonde haired, annoying twat of a kid that followed Noel everywhere. Liam was now a lanky brunette. Liam was still a twat, but a fit one.

Noel pushed that thought to the deepest part of his mind. This was his _brother_ for fuck’s sake.

”Noel?” He asked, curiously lacing his tongue.

“He-“

“You’ve gotta lot of nerve coming back here, you.”

The words were spat, no, snarled at him. Liam had never spoken so angrily towards him, something in Noel shattered, and he had the fearful thought that it was his heart.

”Liam, what are you-“

”You left! No warnin’, just up and left!” He sounded angry, sad, _betrayed_ and Noel hated himself for making his little brother feel that way. 

He took the time to look at Liam, He was scrawny, oversized, white shirt seeming to drown his figure, baggy trousers barely staying rested on his hips. He could see the darken bits of skin where a beard would be if not shaven. He really was a man now, huh, are kid?

”Liam, Look — Liam!” The younger of the two stopped his babbling, looked at Noel with gritted teeth, urging him to explain himself. Noel took a deep breath, looked at Liam, then away, then back at Liam, then away again. “I-I’m sorry, yeah, I should’ve left a message, it was wrong of me to leave-“

”Sure right it was!” Liam pointed back into the house. “Mam was in tears, in fucking tears, Noel, sobbing about you. About how you-“ He stepped outside, jabbed his meaty finger into Noel’s chest, all but making Noel stumble back. “About how you left, she thought you hated her, I thought you hated _me._ ”

The last few words really struck Noel, _Liam thought I hated him, Mam thought I hated her._ He blinked away something wet, not tears, he didn’t cry.

”Look, I’m sorry, ok? It was a dick move, I was a fucking twat, so please, are kid, please,” He was begging now, close to getting onto his knees and just pleading with Liam. “Let me in so I can apologise to Mam, so I can make it up to _you_.”

Liam bit his lip, looked like he was contemplating something, when it hit Noel. Liam was 5 years younger than him, half a decade, Noel didn’t take orders from bratty teens, Noel to orders from no one.

(No one but his Mam, but his Da, but Clint.)

Noel took orders from _nobody._

And so he dropped his suitcase, pushed Liam to the side and stormed into his house, the house he shared with his family, with his Ma, with Paul, with _Liam._

Liam jumped to follow Noel, trying to grab his arm, trying to pull Noel back, always trying to pull Noel back.

”What the fuck is he doing here?” The words were taken from his mouth, his jaw slack as he stared at the man, lounging on the sofa. On Noel’s side of the sofa, Noel always sat on the left side of the floral sofa. Why was- why was he here?

Noel turned to look at Liam, she’s wide, brain not being able to form words. Noel took a look at Liam, saw the sight of fading bruises on his face, his arms, where his shirt started, hiding what Noel knew was the worst of the lot. 

Da didn’t hit Liam. This wasn’t right.

His Mam walked in, just as Tommy had stood up, just as Noel turned to face the, now, snarling man.

”What the fuck am _I_ doing here? What are _you_ doing here, fucking drunken twat?” Noel was practically asking for that slap, basically begging for it.

”Noel?” His Mam’s words caused all three men (was Noel a man? Liam, he was just 16, barely a man?) to turn to face her. Her eyes was squinted, eye bags drooping with tiredness. “Noel, is that you?” She sounded close to tears.

Noel stepped around Liam, fell into his Mam’s open arms. She sobbed into his shoulder, he could feel Liam’s glare, probably cursing Noel for making Mam cry. He could also feel his Da’s glare, watching his as, he too, sobbed into his Mam’s shoulder, only quieter.

A lot, lot quieter.


	4. This Charming Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam’s viewpoint on Noel Leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kinda rushed, so I apologise for any mistakes. And yes, I do know that Noel was engaged to Diane, not Louise, it just wouldn’t fit with the story to have him dating both.
> 
> 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒  
> ⁞ ❏. mentions of underage drinking   
> ⁞ ❏. abusive situations

**1988**

Liam couldn’t hide his smile the day Noel announced Louise had officially ended things with him. Liam was 100% sure why things had ended, but he remembered Louise storming out of his and Noel’s bedroom, words rolling off her tongue and seeping into Noel like venom.

( _“You can’t do anything right! Is it me, Noel? Have you found a new girl, is she great? Is Clint great, Noel?_ )

She had yelled while buttoning up her white shirt. Her lipstick was smudged, it was red, always wearing something _red_.

Noel had been yelling too, practically begging her to stay. Liam thought it was pathetic, Louise seemed to thought as much, too. And so she slammed the door on Noel, leaving a crack in his heart and a smile on Liam.

Liam remembered a time his English teacher had droned on about colours. How blue was sad and red danger. Liam wasn’t surprised that Louise had broken Noel’s heart, he was just surprised if had taken so long.

Liam didn’t know who Clint was. Paul did, Paul didn’t like Clint, but Noel did. Liam didn’t like Clint. The day after Louise had ended things, Noel had left. Packed his things in the middle of of the night, and left.

They did the same thing to their dad years ago.

_Did Noel not love him anymore?_

His Mam was a mess. Noel didn’t leave a note, but they knew who he was with, it was obvious. Clint Boon. Always with Clint Boon. Who was Clint Boon? A twat, that’s who.

Noel phoned three days later, apologised to Mam, but not to Liam. That left a crack in Liam’s heart, and he may or may not have burnt Noel’s favourite shirt. It was an accident, but watching the face of a black and white figure burn, brought him great joy. Liam guessed he wasn’t a charming man.

Liam had been planning on going to prom with just his mates, the five of them, dateless. But with Noel gone, he didn’t even congratulate Liam on padding 4 of his GCSEs, Liam decided that he very much needed a date, and who better than Betty, Louise’s younger sister?

Betty wore red at prom, she looked beautiful, _dangerous_. Liam recalled laying her down, avoiding eye contact as he thrusted inside her, he could only think of one person, and he hated himself for it.

When Liam woke up the next morning, Betty was gone. She left a note with a promise of a Later and Liam crumpled the piece of paper up, not too bothered about a Later.

Noel had told his Mam that.

( _“Do you want to speak to Liam, Noelie?”_ His Mam had asked, a relieved smile on her face. _“Later.”_ Was his curt reply, and then he hung up the phone. Liam’s smile fell, so did his Mam’s.)

Liam had trudged down the stairs, mind hazy from the remains of a hangover, his surroundings weren’t too obvious to him, everything kinda blurry.

“Morning Mam,” He kissed her cheek, grabbed a plate of toast acc settled down next to his Da. His Mam barely ever made him breakfast anymore, only on special occasions. Was his Da being around a special occasion? What his Da-

He turned to look at the man, already sipping on a bottle of beer.

“What the fuck?” He yelled, pushing his chair away as he stood, glaring daggers into his Da and then looking towards his Ma.

“He just showed up.”

“Tell him to leave.”

“I did.”

“She did.”

He turned to look at his Da, pointed a finger at him and then to the back door.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” His Mam gasped out what sounded like his name, but he didn’t care. His Da was standing too, they were the same height now. Liam remembered his he used to tower over Noel, how he used to bring such fear to the all that his older brothers developed a stutter.

Liam wasn’t scared, he just wanted him out.

“You watch how you speak to you father, boy.” He growled, hands tightening in s way he never did towards Liam. People only had so many buttons, and Liam always seemed to have just as many fingers.

“You’re not my Da.”

He should’ve expected that slap.

His Da would randomly show up, would fall asleep on the floor, the sofa or Noel’s bed. Liam didn’t know how he knew which one was Noel’s he also didn’t know how his Da knew where they lived. Everything seemed to be a mystery to him.

So imagine his shock 5 months later when he opens the back door, going to see Betty, and sees Noel. Noel had grown out his hair in a way he was never allowed to before. Noel was also twitching, like he was nervous, like he knew Da was inside.

“Noel?” He asked, hoping, grasping onto the part of his brain that let him _believe_ Noel was really there. Pleading with whatever God that Noel really was home.

Liam didn’t let Noel speak, saw the way he had straightened, like he was so sure that he had just weaselled his way back in. Without a fucking apology? Liam thought not.

He thought of Noel with his Later. His Da, inside, sat on Noel’s seat, nursing a beer. Of Noel leaving for 5 month, only speaking to his Ma once, to Paul once. Not even bothering to speak to Liam.

“You’ve gotta lot of nerve coming back here, you.”

And so it began.

**Author's Note:**

> Whitehouse vs Lemon is true a 1977 court case involving the blasphemy law in the United Kingdom.
> 
> In 2002 BBC RADIO 4 broadcasted a play about the trial.
> 
> There’s also a 90s British sitcom called the ‘The Mary Whitehouse Experience’ that mocks the woman. (Personally haven’t watched it, but I definitely will!)


End file.
